Cats and Dogs
by Jaye Reid
Summary: Cats, Frank, Rachel? What have these people been doing?


Cats and Dogs

By Jaye Reid.

Commenced: 13.10.1999

Completed: 17.10.1999

Disclaimer: Do you think I could get away with changing my name to Hal. McElroy??? Then at least I could try and convince people that they were mine? But alas, I fear it not possible… So yes, I know I don't own them, and he and Southern Star do. But if they ever get sick of owning them, well perhaps….. nah, that wouldn't work either, too many people in the queue already!

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It was Monday morning and Frank held the door open for Rachel as she hobbled into the office foyer on crutches. The plaster was visible on her foot and disappeared up the leg of her tailored grey trousers.

"What the hell happened to you!" asked Helen leaning forward over the bench for a better look.

Rachel didn't look to be in a good mood.

"Ah, tripped over a cat," said Rachel off-handedly.

"Um Rach., you don't own a cat?" replied Helen.

"Just trust me," said Frank, "you really *don't* want to know."

Rachel shot a look at Frank. He put his hands up, in surrender mode.

"No," said Rachel, "it isn't anything to write home about."

By this stage, Gavin and Tayler had also appeared. Rachel had reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Shit!" she said, "I forgot about these bastards and my crutches."

"I'll help," offered Frank.

"Don't you think you have already helped enough?" she replied.

"Now come on Rachel, you can't blame me for it."

"For what?" quizzed Tayler from behind the counter.

Both Frank and Rachel gave Tayler a look that saw her immediately back off and disappear.

Frank helped her up the stairs. It was a slow job, and she wondered how long it would take to get used to the crutches.

Jeff was heading down the hallway as they reached the top of the stairs.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Long story," said Frank.

"Well," Jeff continued to Rachel, "you're not going to be much use to us are you? With Christey due to arrive any tic…….."

"What? Jack? What's he doing coming here?" asked Rachel. This was all she needed.

"That case you were working on with Detective Moore? Well, his mother died over the weekend, so he is on leave. Jack is taking it over."

"Oh, just great," said Frank, "just when I was getting used to Carl."

"You don't have a problem working with Jack do you Frank?" asked Jeff as they headed into their office. "Rachel didn't seem to while you were away. There's no history between you and Jack that I should know about? Anything that will effect you working together on this?"

"Nah, no history between me and Jack," replied Frank, looking over to Rachel. She ignored him.

Just at that moment, Jack Christey came bounding through the door.

"Hey guys, ready to catch some crooks?" he asked cheerily. Then he noticed Rachel sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Christ!! What have you been doing?" he asked.

"Long story," she replied.

"Tripped over a cat," said Frank with a mischievous grin.

"So, I guess I'm stuck here, right?" she said to Jeff.

"Looks like it," he replied, "can't see you getting too far, too fast. How long is the plaster on for?"

Rachel looked philosophically at him. "Ah, it's not a break, just a bad sprain, should have it off in a week. The plaster is only to protect it while it heals a bit."

"Yeah, the doc. Said it will stop her doing further damage in the meantime," added Frank.

"So, what…… you were there were you?" Jeff asked, "when she did it?"

"Ah, well….. yeah," he said sheepishly.

"It was his bloody cat!" replied Rachel.

"You….. own a cat?" asked Jack. "Never would have picked you as an animal lover Frank."

"Well…… I don't really…… well…..um, it's a long story," he replied scratching his head and desperately trying to think of something to change the subject.

"Well, enough of cats and long stories, how about some work," said Jeff. "Keep me informed," and with that, he headed out the door.

"Okay, let's go," Jack said to Frank, and they too headed out.

"Hey! ….. What about me?" called Rachel.

"Humm," said Frank stopping and turning to Jack. "Moving Pictures weren't they…… the band. That was their song, mid 80's wasn't it?"

"Yeah, sounds about right," Jack replied with a smirk, "Didn't like their music much."

"Pair of smart arses aren't you," she replied.

"Oh," said Frank, "you want something to *do*? Well, over on my desk there is a list of people that the latest victim apparently worked with over the last two years. Make some phone calls why don't ya, and see if you can track down their whereabouts last Tuesday. Verify their alibi's too if you want. That should keep you busy for a couple of days!"

"Thanks Frank, riveting stuff. Do you want to get the list for me?" she asked giving him a fake look of helplessness. It didn't work.

"Nah, I've got real work to do," he laughed and he and Jack headed out the door.

"You're a bastard Holloway!" Rachel yelled after Frank as he headed down the hallway.

"Oh, you say the nicest things," he called back.

Jack and Frank came bounding down the stairs.

"So what did she do, really?" asked Jack.

"She told you mate, tripped over a cat," replied Frank.

"Yeah, and I still believe in Santa Claus too," joked Jack.

"Hey, I'll drive," said Frank.

"No I will," replied Jack.

"Look, I know the area better," replied Frank.

"Yeah, and I got to know it pretty well too while you were away," Jack answered back.

"I hear it's not the only thing you got to know fairly well while I was away," Frank snapped.

"What's that supposed to mean then?" asked Jack.

The whole debate was unfolding in the foyer.

Dave and Gavin had been discussing something over at one of the computers, but they stopped to listen to the discussion.

"Okay fellas, can you take it outside. We don't need to hear it." Helen told them in hear usual stern manner.

They looked at her and headed out the door, still 'discussing' things.

Tayler wandered over to Helen. "You know, they remind me of two damn puppies, fighting over the same toy." Tayler commented.

Helen smiled, "Yeah." And then under her breath to herself she added, "and the toy's name is Rachel."

A few hours later, Rachel was still making phone calls and getting more bored by the minute. Jack and Frank had returned. Frank wanted to check out some information with Dave, so Jack decided to go and annoy Rachel.

"How's it going?" he asked sticking his head around the doorway.

"Oh fun. Just great," she replied sarcastically. "I just love the idea of being stuck inside all day for a week."

"Making any progress?" he asked, choosing to ignore her sarcasm.

"Not a lot," she replied. "So how's it going with you and Frank?"

"Ah, perhaps I should be asking you that question," he replied.

"And just what's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Oh, I just heard that you and Frank are spending as much time together off the job as you are on?" he replied.

"Give it a rest will you Jack," replied Rachel getting annoyed.

"Hum, well perhaps you should listen to your own advice, and rest… you wouldn't want to tire poor old Frank out."

"And tell me Jack," she said leaning back in the chair, "exactly what part of any of this is your business?"

"You know me Rachel, I like to make lots of things my business. That's what makes me so good at my job."

"Yeah, well this ain't one of them," she replied, "So just BUTT OUT!"

"So….. what we had….."

"What we had," interrupted Rachel, starting to get really annoyed, "was just a series of events that played out in front of us. They finished. Gone. Slate wiped clean."

"Nah Rachel, you can't tell me that, doesn't work. I was there remember," he said trying to convince her, and possibly himself.

"Yeah, and so was I. It was an isolated incident, and one better off forgotten." She retorted.

They just looked at each other. Frank walked in.

"How's it……" he started but stopped when he saw the look on their faces. The air in the room was decidedly heated.

"Sorry, have I interrupted something….?" He asked.

"No," replied Rachel looking at Jack, "nothing to interrupt."

"Ah, did you by any chance try to get in touch with a James Finch?" asked Frank.

Rachel looked down the list of people. She had ticks and crosses everywhere.

"Um, I tried. No answer. Why?" she asked.

"Well," continued Frank, "you can cross him off the list. I was just talking to Dave, they pulled Finch's body out of the harbour."

"Early morning swim?" asked Rachel.

"Well, I don't think so," replied Frank dryly, "hole in the head. Think it would be safe to say it was there first."

"Yeah, they don't tend to shoot themselves *after* they get into the water," added Jack. "Well I have a couple of things to do. Frank, Rach., as always, I'll see you both later." And with that he left.

"What's up his nose?" said Frank as he watched Jack leave.

"Ah, nothing," replied Rachel turning back around on her chair. But something happened.

She lost her balance and with the foot in plaster, overcorrected on the swivel chair and landed on the floor.

"Shit! Ow, that hurt," she cried.

Frank laughed.

"Look, piss off Frank!" she snapped trying to get up off the floor and failing miserably.

"Come on, let me help," he said walking over and offering her his hand.

"Just rack off will you! If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be like this."

Frank went on the defensive. "I didn't hear you complaining before you did it? I actually thought you had been enjoying yourself?"

"You think do you?" she retorted. "All you bloody men think that you are some sort of super studs. Say the word and women will just swoon. Well I hate to bring you back to reality Francis James Holloway….. no such luck with *this* woman."

"Fine Rachel, just fine. Thanks for that," he said walking to the door, he turned back, "You're gonna be a sad old woman one day Rachel, no-one is going to be good enough for someone as perfect as you!"

And with that he left.

Hell, thought Rachel. When would she learn to think before she opened her mouth? Especially when she was angry? Bloody Frank, why was it that he could get her so worked up, so quickly?

She was still angry, why did he have to be right? She struggled up off the floor, and picked up her crutches.

"Stupid bloody things," she said out loud, and she flung one of them across the room. Unfortunately with a bit too much force.

Helen came rushing in after hearing the breaking glass. She looked from Rachel to the broken office window.

"Don't ask Helen. Ah… just check that there was nobody down there under the window could you?"

A shadow fell across Frank. The end of another day had found him at his favourite table at the Cutters Bar. He looked up from the drink he had been spinning in front of him on the table.

It was Rachel.

"You gonna drink that or just play with it?" she asked.

He picked it up and sculled the remainder of the glass.

"Another?" she asked, "My shout."

"Why?" quizzed Frank.

She stood their, propped on her crutches. "What do you mean? Why to whether you want another, or why to my shouting?"

"Both," he answered.

"Well….. I guess I wanted to apologise," she said sitting opposite him.

"For what? Can't think of anything that you've done out of the ordinary," he replied.

"Yeah, I know. Perhaps that is part of the problem," she said. "Maybe it's time I started changing."

"Nah, why fix something that ain't broken," he replied with a grin. "You're you Rachel, and we all love ya for it."

"Who's we?" she added coyly looking at him.

Frank hated being put on the spot. Especially by her and especially about his feelings.

"You buying or what?" he asked avoiding the question.

"Yep, but here," she said getting a twenty dollar note from her wallet, "you'll have to go and get them. You know, the ankle and everything….."

"So I guess that means that you don't want an evening of dancing and wild unbridled passion?" he said standing and taking the money.

"Ha! Dancing, no! And just where would I find someone for the night of passion?" she laughed.

"Well," he said, leaning over and whispering in her ear, "we could pick up from where we left it last night…"

A smile spread across her face. "Hum… deal Francis. But on two conditions."

"They are…."

"One," she said, "if we need more wine, *you* can get up and get it this time."

And what is two?" he asked smiling.

"Two is… not on the Catamaran again!. After tripping over the rigging in the dark last night, I don't want to repeat the performance…."

The End

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